


Opposite Ends

by amythis



Category: Laverne & Shirley (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 08:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26969176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amythis/pseuds/amythis
Summary: When Laverne turns out to be pregnant after leaping before she looked, she and Shirley move to opposite ends of the country, but they miss each other terribly.
Relationships: Laverne DeFazio & Shirley Feeney
Comments: 37
Kudos: 4





	1. October 1958

The words blurred, although it wasn't a bad connection. "Rabbit...like I told you...too soon to be sure...next month...."

"OK, thank you, Doctor. I'll, I'll be in touch." Laverne winced at her own words. They felt inadequate, but she had no idea what would've been the right thing to say in this situation.

The gynecologist said goodbye, but Laverne just nodded and hung up.

"Vernie?" Her best friend's voice was full of love and concern.

Laverne sighed wearily and joined Shirley on the couch. She repeated the doctor's words, adding what she had been too embarrassed to share the day of the pregnancy test. "When he examined me, um, it all came back, what it, what it's like to have someone in me, not just fingers."

Both girls blushed. Shirley nodded and said, "I figured if you were still a, a virgin, you would've said so."

"No such luck."

"Oh, Vernie, I wish your first time had been special. Even if it wasn't your wedding night, if it had least been a romantic setting, with someone you love."

"Instead of with a cute stranger in an empty beer vat?"

Now Shirley winced. "Yeah. Well, anyway, the doctor's right. It could be a false positive."

"And if it isn't?"

"Well, that's up to you, but I'll try to be as supportive as I can, whatever you decide. Even if it's marrying Leonard Kosnowski."

Laverne chuckled and then sighed. "Shirl, you know I don't want to be pregnant. But if I am, well...."

"You don't have to be."

"What, you got a time machine, where I don't go to that brewery party?"

"No, I can't stop you from getting pregnant but maybe I can help you stop being pregnant."

It took Laverne a minute to understand, especially since mostly innocent Shirley Feeney was just about the last person she'd expected such a suggestion to come from. Which was why she didn't immediately accuse her best friend of suggesting what she was probably suggesting. "You mean like a hot bath?"

"No, I don't think there's any safe, reliable way you could do it yourself. But, well, when Carmine thought it was a friend of a friend of a friend, he offered to help. He didn't go into detail in front of Mrs. Babish and the boys, but, well, I think he knows people who could, well, take care of your problem."

It wasn't that Laverne hadn't considered it. It would be expensive, but maybe Shirley could loan her some money, or Carmine could as it turned out. It would be cheaper than raising a kid of course. But it wasn't about the money.

"Shirl, I can't. I'm Catholic."

"I'm sorry, Vernie. I didn't mean to offend you."

"I'm not offended." As she said it, Laverne realized it was true. "I know I'm not a very good Catholic. And I don't agree with the Church about everything. But I agree about this, at least for me." She felt like she couldn't make this decision for any other woman, because she knew how hard it was for herself.

"So you want to keep it?"

"I can't raise a kid on my own. And even if I were married, like if the father was, I dunno, Norman." She named the steadiest of her boyfriends, who did not yet know about the wild party at Shotz. He was a policeman with a strict sense of right and wrong. He cared about her but he wouldn't approve of any of this, and not just because they'd never gone past second base.

"Norman?" Shirley prompted.

"I feel too young to be a mother. OK, yeah, and Cookie's already pregnant with her second but...."

She was thinking of one of their old friends from high school. Laverne and Shirley were the only Angora Debs who hadn't gotten married yet. (Even Anne Marie was a Bride of Christ.) Some of the Debs, like Cookie, were not just wives but mothers. But Laverne wasn't ready to settle down and stop having fun.

The trouble was she was in trouble and she was going to have to live quietly for the next eight months or more.

"Laverne, if you're not ready for a baby but you're having it, where does that leave you?"

Laverne shrugged, still feeling her way through this. "Adoption?"

"Oh. That's very noble of you, bearing a child for some couple who maybe can't have one of their own."

Laverne shook her head. "I think it's more noble to give the poor kid a home."

"Still, it won't be easy for you, facing everybody you know, at work and in the neighborhood."

"Yeah," Laverne said quietly. She could just imagine Rosie Greenbaum's reaction.

"Are you going to tell your father and our friends?"

"Let's wait. It's still so early and I need more time to think about all this."

"Of course, Vernie. Would you like some tea?"

Laverne was not a big tea-drinker, but it felt appropriate then. It was something grown-up ladies drank, and it would help her fight the chill that she told herself was due to the autumn snow.


	2. November 1958

It seemed wrong somehow that their going-away party was on such a sunny day. It was cool but clear, when Shirley wanted rain to match her tears.

The only person weeping more than her was, predictably, Lenny. He was inconsolable two years ago, when it was just supposed to be Shirley leaving town, and of course it tore him up even more to lose Laverne. If he had known the truth, he would've wrecked the Pizza Bowl in a storm of emotions. But Shirley had promised to confide in no one but their trustworthy landlady. Laverne only told her father because she had to.

"Are you really going this time?" Squiggy asked with his arms crossed. " 'Cause last time you cheated me outta a faretheewell gift."

Last time, he, and Lenny, had given her a single, admittedly unused roll of toilet paper.

"Yes, I'm really moving to California." Probably for good. Shirley knew at least that she couldn't stay in Milwaukee without Laverne. Even with all her friends, she would be lonely. Also, she would've been the one to have to stay here and lie about Laverne's life.

"California?" Laverne had said in disbelief when Shirley had first suggested it. "That's so far!"

"Well, so's new York."

"That's what I meant. We'll be at opposite ends of the country."

Alaska and Hawaii wouldn't officially be states until the following year, so it really was about as far apart as they could get without leaving the United States. Well, unless Laverne moved up to Maine.

Shirley had eavesdropped from the bedroom when Laverne told her father, "Poppy, I am pregnant but I want to give the baby up for adoption. And I want to go away during the pregnancy, and maybe never come back."

Only, she didn't say it that smoothly or quickly, not with her father's outbursts that were a mixture of English, Italian, and spleen. He didn't want his only child to give away his grandbaby, no matter the shame and the hardship. He swore to, and swore about, the protection and support of his daughter, but she was as stubborn as he. So the DeFazios agreed that Laverne would move in with her Brooklyn grandmother, and Shirley felt her heart break a little further.

She'd hoped that Mr. DeFazio could talk Laverne out of leaving, or at least convince her to go to a home for unwed mothers, someplace close enough for Shirley to visit. Perhaps Mrs. Babish could give them a break on the rent during Laverne's absence. Shirley would've done her best to tell whatever cover story Laverne would come up with, and waited as patiently as she could for Laverne's return.

"I don't want to get another roommate. And if you're getting a fresh start living with family, well, maybe I should try living with my mother. And Mama and I are on better terms these days."

"Here." Squiggy set a badly wrapped box on the table.

"Thank you." He was looking at her as if he expected her to open it in front of him, so she cautiously took off the newspaper that was barely clinging on. At least the box was too flat to contain toilet paper, unless it had been unrolled and flattened. She lifted the lid and was very pleasantly surprised to see stylish sunglasses, like something Audrey Hepburn would wear. "Squiggy, these are lovely."

He shrugged, more modestly than usual. "I figured your sensitive baby blues ain't gonna be strong enough for all that California sunshine."

She put them on, thankful that they'd hide her tears a little. "I'll think of you when I wear them," she said, and it was not an unpleasant thought.

"So you're thinkin' about me right now?"

"Well, yes."

He smacked his lips. "Then how about a kiss goodbye?"

She had never wanted to kiss Andrew Squiggman, although he had been after her since high school. However, she was in a sentimental mood and she was sure she'd never see him again. She and Laverne would turn in early after the party and then in the morning Carmine would drive them both to the station for their one-way buses to opposite ends of the country. The girls had agreed to sell Carmine their car, since neither of them wanted to drive in and to unfamiliar territory alone. The car originally belonged to Carmine's divorced girlfriend, Lucille Lockwash, and Carmine was willing to give them what they paid for it. Shirley didn't know if she would kiss Carmine goodbye.

She got to her feet but left the sunglasses on. She stepped closer to Squiggy, who was puckering up. She kissed him long enough to make his leg pop. Then he collapsed into an empty chair.

She looked around the Pizza Bowl, thinking of how much she would miss it, and everyone in it. Coworkers from the brewery, especially the bowling league. Rosie Greenbaum and the other Angora Debs. Terry Buttafucco, who'd offered to move in when she heard that Laverne was moving to New York to take care of a sick grandmother. Men Laverne and/or Shirley dated or wanted to date. Carmine, who still called Shirley "Angel Face" months after dumping her. Neighbors, even Mrs. Kolcheck, who didn't like Shirley. And dear Mr. DeFazio and Mrs. Babish, who in some ways felt like Shirley's real parents, although she hadn't known Edna for very long.

No one else there knew Laverne's secret. Vernie herself had disappeared in the last couple minutes, as had Lenny. Presumably he wanted his goodbye kiss in private. Shirley tried not to think about saying goodbye to Laverne in twelve hours. She pushed the sunglasses higher on her nose and prepared to say hello and goodbye to Norman Hughes.


	3. December 1958

Laverne stared at the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, still impressed by its size. She hadn't spent a winter in New York since she was four. The summer after that, they moved to Milwaukee. Her father was on leave from the war, compassionate leave she would later learn it was called. The Army let him go for long enough to help his very sick wife and mischievous daughter locate to a friendlier climate. Why he had opted for Wisconsin, rather than Florida or California, baffled Laverne fifteen years later. At the time, she was purely miserable at leaving her beloved Brooklyn and close-knit family. As it turned out, they were so close knit that some followed Fabrizio to the Midwest.

Her grandmother had stayed planted in the same apartment that Antonio DeFazio had carried her over the threshold of in 1905, a week after she was cleared at Ellis island. She had since been saving up for decades for a trip back to Italy, but she saw no point in going to Milwaukee. Laverne and her pop had visited her a few times over the years, and it was always good to be back, but Laverne had never imagined living with her.

The official story in Milwaukee was that Laverne was going to take care of her sick grandmother in New York for an indefinite amount of time. Her father had told his mother that Laverne had been engaged to a half-Italian cop, but Officer Norman Ugolini had been killed in the line of duty. Laverne hadn't realized she was pregnant until after she lost Norman.

Laverne felt guilty about the lies, but what choice did she have when the truth was so bad? It was tough enough that her old-fashioned grandmother knew Laverne was going to be an unwed mother. Her nonna clucked her tongue about it, but she didn't scold much. Mostly, she felt sorry for Laverne and tried to fatten her up. And sometimes she tried to matchmake her granddaughter, like with Benito Esposito, a middle-aged widower with five kids. Grandma swore he wouldn't hold Laverne's past against her if he found out. Laverne kept saying she was in mourning for Norman, which in a way she was.

Her life used to be so simple, back when she dated Norman, the real Norman, and all her other fellas. She missed that, and just hanging out at the Pizza Bowl. She even missed the brewery, which she never would've thought possible.

Most of all, she missed Shirley. The girls had been almost inseparable ever since they got kicked out of the Brownies together. Every day in Brooklyn, or when she went to see the sights in the other boroughs, she wished she could share her experiences with Shirley. Writing letters wasn't the same, especially since Laverne, unlike Shirley, didn't like to write.

"Here." Her favorite cousin, Anthony, held out a handkerchief.

"Thanks." She hated to cry in the cold.

She thought of Lenny, although he'd been the one crying the last time she'd seen him, and his hankie wasn't washed and ironed by a doting mother.

"Laverne, can I talk to you in the alley?"

"Sure, Lenny." No one was bowling at the going-away party, so it would be a little quieter by the lanes.

He pulled on the sleeve of her sweater. "Outside."

So they were standing in the alley behind her father's restaurant as Lenny said, "I wanna give you somethin' before you go, but I didn't wanna do it in front of everyone."

She was sure it would be a big kiss. He'd given her one months ago, in gratitude for her improving his red jacket with a cursive L. It'd caught her off guard, although he wasn't a bad kisser.

This time the surprise was he reached into his wallet and handed over five twenties.

"What's this?"

"New York City is an expensive place to live, Laverne."

"Yeah, but my grandmother won't charge me rent or nothin'."

"Still, you won't be workin' while you're takin' care of her. And you can spend it on souvenirs or emergencies or whatever."

She'd wondered then and later if he'd known her secret. But it seemed like he would've said something, and he'd looked genuinely relieved the month before when she said, "False alarm, Len."

"I can't take your money, Len."

"I wasn't savin' for nothin' important, and even Squiggy don't know about it."

He really was a sweet guy. She knew that, even that night, she could've told him the truth and accepted his proposal. But she didn't love him the right way. And she knew that she could use the money, whatever she decided to do with her life after the adoption.

She threw her arms around him and kissed him. It was on the lips and he kissed back, but he seemed to understand that it was the end of something, not a beginning. Then she let go and he wiped her lipstick off his face with his damp and dirty handkerchief. They went back inside and the party broke up soon after that.

"Sorry for the cryin'. The holidays make me more emotional."

"Yeah, it's got nothin' to do with you bein' knocked up."

She stared at Anthony. "Grandma told you?"

"Nah, she told everyone you're homesick for Milwaukee, but I think they'll figure it out once you start showin'."

"So how did you know?"

"I didn't for sure, but it was the only thing that made sense. You love Brooklyn but Milwaukee is your home. I could see you comin' for a visit, but it's been a month already. And leaving behind Uncle Frank and your friends and everybody? Not to mention your job at the brewery. And you and Grandma have been so vague about when you're goin' back."

"I'm not goin' back, ever."

"No wonder you're cryin'."

"Yeah."

"And no wonder Grandma wants you to marry Benito."

"Yeah."

"You're not gonna, are ya?"

"Nah, I coulda married someone I actually like back in Milwaukee. And I don't wanna marry anyone, not just to give the baby a father."

"What about the real father?"

She looked over at the ice-skaters, shame and honesty fighting inside her. "Grandma doesn't know this part. She thinks my perfect fiancé died. But it was a stranger and I was drunk. I haven't seen him since."

"Oh, Dale, you poor moron!"

As buck-toothed little kids who were inseparable, their neighborhood nicknames were Chip and Dale. His father later saved up for braces, but Pop didn't want her to lose the smile that resembled her mother's. Anthony had great teeth now and he'd grown up to be very cute. If she weren't pregnant and his cousin, she would've gone after him. Instead they'd become like siblings again. Well, except for the whole thing of seeing each other naked to find out the difference between boys and girls fifteen years ago.

"I'm OK."

"So are you keeping it?"

"Pop and Grandma think I should, but I don't think I'm ready to be a good mom. I'm giving it up for adoption."

"Does Grandma know that?"

"Yeah, but she thinks I'll change my mind if she finds me a good husband."

"You're very brave, Dale."

She remembered Shirley's whisper, before they fell asleep that last night in Milwaukee, Laverne's arms around her best friend, who was holding Boo Boo Kitty. "You're so brave, Vernie. I could never do what you're doing."

"You're leaving everything behind, too, Shirl."

"Yes, but I could come back easily if I wanted to."

Shirley left by choice, while Laverne's choices were all bad. And it wasn't just about leaving town of course. It was about her carrying a child for people she might never meet.

"Then why are you going?"

"It'll be too hard to stay without you, pretending everything is normal. If I came back later, it'd make more sense, for me and everyone, that things would be different."

"Yeah." She lightly stroked Shirley's stomach through the pajama top, thinking of how it contained two partially digested pizza slices instead of the beginnings of a baby.

They were in Shirley's bed. After they'd come home and changed into pajamas, Shirley had said, "It'll be strange sleeping without you."

Laverne had chuckled and said, "Remember our sleepovers and slumber parties?"

Ghost stories and gossip, secrets and jokes, nervous questions and dubious answers about sex and God. And food, always food. Sometimes Anne Marie was there, but mostly it was just Gutsy and Klutzy without Nutsy. And sometimes, especially for the more intimate moments, when they didn't want Laverne's father or Shirley's mother and brothers to overhear, they'd climb into one bed and whisper.

"We probably couldn't fit in one bed anymore."

"Hey, it's not like I'm fat yet."

And so they ended up snuggling, but not talking much. It felt nice, the first time as an adult that Laverne had ever snuggled lying down without making out. Shirley smelled sweeter than the guys Laverne dated, and she was definitely smaller and softer.

They spooned because that took up the least amount of room on Shirley's narrow bed. At first, Laverne just held her, carefully, as if Shirley were fragile. But when Shirley murmured, "You're so warm," they relaxed into each other more.

Shirley stroked the hand stroking her stomach. But it wasn't like Laverne was trying to get something off her best friend. It was just a goodbye to all they'd meant to each other, more meaningful than their hug the next morning at the bus station.

Laverne thought of Shirley's softness as soft snow began to fall. It was probably snowing in Milwaukee now, but it was likely sunny in the San Fernando Valley, where Shirley would be eating breakfast with her mother.

"Let's get you home, Dale, before the snow gets too heavy."

Laverne wanted to protest that she wasn't fragile and a little snow wouldn't hurt her, but then she remembered the beginnings of a baby she carried under her grandfather's fifty-year-old coat. She nodded, said, "Thanks, Chip," and let her favorite cousin guide her to the nearest subway station.


	4. February 1959

Shirley looked in the full-length mirror of her mother's guest bedroom and hoped her blind date would like what he saw. She was dubious about this pink dress, since she preferred bold colors, especially black. But it was Valentine's Day and she knew Mama wouldn't let her go out in public, let alone to dinner and dancing with an eligible bachelor, in Shirley's first choice, red.

Walter Meeney was very eligible, a college man who was pre-med at UCLA. According to Mona Meeney, his aunt, and Barb Feeney's favorite bridge partner, he was handsome and clean-cut. He wasn't very tall, "but you're so petite, Shirley."

Laverne was the one who liked tall men, whether lanky or muscular. She'd recently written to Shirley that the man in the vat was tall, and "maybe the baby will be tall when it grows up."

Laverne was now five months along and, she claimed, getting fat, "although some of that is just Grandma feeding me like I'm eating for four." Laverne also said she'd recently felt the baby kick. Shirley wished she could've been there. It felt wrong that her best friend was having a baby and she couldn't be there to share the experience. She reminded herself that this was not a pregnancy that they could celebrate.

She looked at her flat stomach and for a minute imagined Walter turning out to be her dream man. She'd drop out of secretarial school and get married. Or maybe she'd get a job as a receptionist and work until he went through med school. But eventually he'd get her pregnant. And Laverne wouldn't be there to share the experience.

Shirley put one hand on her stomach and remembered Laverne's strong hand there. They cuddled like spoons, Laverne's warmth against her back, that last cold night in Milwaukee, three months ago. Since they were both girls, she didn't think of it as romantic, as it would've been with Carmine when they were dating. But it had been tender, intimate, loving. And now Shirley was as far from Laverne as she could be. Well, unless she moved to the brand-new 49th state.

"Shirley, Walter's here!"

"Be right there, Mama!" She looked at the girl-next-door face in the mirror. She prepared to answer questions about the life she'd left behind, hoping she wouldn't cry. Maybe she'd focus on her life in sunny California, including her plans to get a dog or two, now that she was living in a house with a yard, since Mama gave permission. Shirley knew that pets would tie her down, but maybe she needed to make that kind of commitment, to have someone to love and take care of. (She had to give her birds, Duane and Eddy, to Terry Buttafucco when she left.)

Well, maybe she'd follow Mama's general advice to encourage the man to talk about himself and his interests. That would flatter him and keep Shirley from crying.

She smiled into the mirror until her dimple appeared. Then she went to greet the handsome, not very tall, young man in a gray jacket and tie, holding a bouquet of pink roses.


	5. April 1959

For Laverne, the worst part of being unwed and seven months pregnant was not all the physical changes and symptoms. She was young, healthy, strong, and well taken care of. In her third trimester, morning sickness was well behind her, and she endured the aches and pains without much complaint. She didn't even mind being fat. It was the one time in her life when she could eat what she wanted, and her grandmother provided plenty of food, delicious food.

The worst part wasn't the gossip and disapproval. Grandma and Anthony protected her from the worst of it and the Ugolini cover story helped. Plus, it wasn't like a pregnant woman stood out in their working-class Italian neighborhood.

The worst part wasn't, as she'd once feared, that she couldn't date. She actually did get asked out, and not just by men her grandmother was trying to marry her off to. Although there were of course times she missed making out, especially with the surplus hormones bouncing around inside her, there was a lot about dating that she didn't miss. First of all, there was the worry when you liked a guy but he didn't like you, or maybe even didn't notice you. So then there were all the little tricks and schemes you used to win him over. And then if you landed him, you had to keep up the act. Not to mention you always had to look your best, which was work in itself, from shaving hair off your legs to styling the hair on the top of your head. And then, Laverne wasn't the best judge of character. She'd meet a cute guy, ignore any red flags, and then find herself, at worst, held as a hostage, or in this case, pregnant by a stranger. She promised herself that she would be more cautious when she started dating again, maybe in the fall, but for now it was good to have a vacation from all that.

The worst part wasn't that she couldn't live the active lifestyle that she was used to. She did miss dancing and softball and just moving her old shape around with ease and speed. Anthony did take her for walks, like a dog, they joked, but mostly she watched TV and slept. (New York slowly lost its place as the center of television production as the decade went on, so that by 1959, Los Angeles, or more so Burbank, was the new TV kingdom, something she and Shirley joked about in their letters, where they indulged in playful East vs. West rivalry. But there was still a lot of, mostly live, television being shot in New York, from soap operas to late-night talk shows, and Laverne watched it all.)

One of the worst parts was that sometimes she wanted to keep the baby. She'd think of possible names and wonder what it would look like. She'd even sometimes talk to her stomach if no one else was around, like when she'd watch _The Mickey Mouse Club_. (Which was shot in California of course.) She knew these were just daydreams and she wouldn't be able to afford a child, even with Grandma's support. And kids were so much work. She couldn't do this alone. Someday she'd meet the right guy, get married, and have kids. And this child would grow up never knowing how it was made or that it could've been named Cubby or Annette.

The absolute worst part of being unwed and seven months pregnant was that Shirley wasn't around to play mother hen in a way that even Grandma couldn't. Shirley's nagging was that of a peer, and she wouldn't have spoiled Laverne. Shirley would've kept Laverne from wallowing in sloth and self-pity. She would've sung the "High Hopes" song and dreamed of bright although separate futures for Laverne and the baby. She would've dated and worked in New York and Laverne could've lived through her.

Shirley was instead as far away as could be, and Laverne had to wait for letters describing secretarial school and Walter Meeney, neither of which Shirley made sound exciting. She'd been dating this college guy for a couple months, but he sounded like a real nerd, even more than Richie Cunningham, who at least knew how to have fun.

_"Walter takes his studies, everything really, very seriously. So I know he's going to be a wonderful doctor someday."_

Laverne hoped Shirley wasn't hoping to marry Walter someday. She deserved someone she could be silly with, laugh with, dance with, get into harmless trouble with, have fun with, like she used to with Laverne.

Maybe Laverne could invite Shirley to visit Brooklyn in the summer. Laverne would need cheering up after giving her baby away, and she could show Shirley around New York. Unless Shirley wouldn't want to leave, ugh, Walter that long.

If she could get Shirley to visit, maybe she could fix her best friend up with her favorite cousin. Antonio and Shirley were both real cute and Laverne had the feeling that they'd hit it off if they ever met. Maybe Shirley could move to Brooklyn and be part of Laverne's everyday life again.

Laverne shook her head. That was as crazy a fantasy as thinking she could keep Baby Cubby. She sighed and sang along with a commercial jingle, too unmotivated to get up and change the channel.


	6. May 1959

"Shirley, I hear Walter's car in the driveway."

"I'll be there in a minute, Mama."

Shirley straightened her scarf. Walter was taking her to a nice restaurant to celebrate the end of his last semester as an undergraduate. He would be starting medical school in the fall. He'd invited her to his graduation ceremony next month, and she would meet his visiting family. She was a little nervous about it, but his Aunt Mona liked her.

Mama thought Walter was perfect. She joked to Shirley, luckily not in front of Walter, that she had no intention of becoming a stereotypical awful mother-in-law.

Shirley didn't know if she wanted to marry Walter. He was a handsome future doctor, and a complete gentleman. He never tried to get too fresh, like Carmine or some of the other men she'd been out with.

She secretly missed making out, but she wouldn't admit that even in her letters to her best friend. After all, poor Laverne couldn't even date, at least not until probably the fall.

Shirley was marking off, in her diary, the days until Laverne's likely due date. Measuring from the fateful night of the Shotz party, the baby was due in a couple weeks. The adoptive parents were eagerly awaiting the blessed event. Laverne would only admit to impatience to get her old body back. Shirley was sure that Laverne would be forever changed, inside and out, but that was something they'd have to discuss in person someday.

She suddenly heard her mother exclaim, "You! And you!"

Snoopy, Shirley's beagle puppy, was barking madly, eager to play watchdog.

Shirley raced into the living room, even though she'd forgotten to put on her jewelry.

She could understand her mother's surprise. Lenny and Squiggy were standing in the doorway, dressed as cowboys. "Hello," Squiggy said, as if they'd just come down a few floors from their apartment.

"What are you boys doing here?"

"How else are we supposed to drive coast to coast if we don't go to one of the coasts?" Squiggy asked.

"See, Shirl," Lenny explained, squatting to rub Snoopy's long, floppy ears, "we've got two weeks' vacation and we just bought your old car from Carmine, so we decided to drive across America."

"I wanted to do Florida to Alaska, but we didn't have enough time."

"So I said, 'Let's go see the girls. We'll start with Shirley in California and end up with Laverne in New York.' "

As calmly as she could, Shirley said, "Mama, will you please tell Walter I'm very sorry but some old friends have dropped by from out of town and we'll have to reschedule for some other time?"

Her mother stared at her. "You're giving up a dream date for a nightma— for an evening with Squiggly and Wiggly?"

"I'm sure Walter will understand. So, Boys, how's the old car running?"

On the way out to the car, the boys told her in detail about it. She couldn't take in a word they were saying, but she nodded and made listening noises.

The boys had the top down since it was a warm spring evening in Southern California. Lenny hopped into the back, Squiggy into the driver's seat. Shirley sighed and opened the front passenger door. She'd been spoiled by Walter holding doors and chairs for her.

"Uh, where am I driving to?" Squiggy asked.

"It doesn't matter," she said as she buckled up. (The boys hadn't bothered. Seatbelts were still optional in the '50s.) "Just somewhere we can talk."

Lenny hung over the back of the seat and said, "How about the beach?"

Squiggy started the car. "Yeah, we should actually get to the coast I guess."

On the way, the boys told her about their trip West, including getting lost, more than once, so that they'd already used up a week of their two weeks off. Shirley didn't see how they expected to get to New York and then home in the remaining time, but maybe she could use that as an argument to dissuade them from visiting Laverne.

Shirley didn't say much about herself, just explaining secretarial school. She didn't say a word about Walter, although she was happy to talk about Snoopy. She couldn't help thinking that her puppy would've loved to have gone for a ride with the boys. He and Lenny had hit it off immediately, while Snoopy had yet to warm up to Walter, and vice versa.

After awhile, Squiggy asked, "Ain't ya gonna ask us about Carmine and everybody?"

Milwaukee seemed so distant, even more than New York. Her friends there wrote to her sporadically, Mrs. Babish better than most, because she was from a generation where women wrote letters. But Mrs. Babish was so busy, everyone was, while Laverne was, in her own words, "just sitting here like a lump, creating a new life in my ample spare time." Laverne's letters were great, even though she kept insisting she wasn't a writer. She had a good eye for detail and she was as funny as she was in person. She'd claim she hadn't done anything but watch television, and then throw in a story of "how I burned the spumoni."

"How is Carmine?"

"That lucky dog finally went to Europe with Mrs. Lockwash!" Lenny's voice was full of admiration and envy.

Squiggy patted her hand. "You was always too good for that louse."

"Thank you, Andrew, but he's not a louse." To her surprise, she felt none of her old jealousy.

"So, Shirl, who's Walter?" Lenny asked.

"A college man I've been seeing. He's pre-med."

"Well, la di da." Squiggy went back to two-handed driving.

"So does this young man have a last name?" Lenny asked, sounding like Nana Feeney.

"Of course he does," Squiggy said. "How else is he gonna get mail?"

"It's Meeney, Walter Meeney."

The boys laughed so hysterically, Shirley was afraid Squiggy would wreck the car. He pulled over to the side of the road and said, "So if you two got married, you'd be—" He set himself and Lenny off again.

"I'd be miserable," she said as it sunk in.

The boys sobered immediately. Lenny patted her shoulder and said, "Hey, Shirl, why don't you come with us to New York?"

"Yeah," Squiggy said, "we could split the driving into three halves."

"Or you could read the maps and keep us from getting lost."

"Thank you for the offer, Boys, but I just can't."

"Hey, if you want, we can swear a Solomon vow to not get fresh with you, unless you ask."

"Yeah," Lenny said, "and you said secretarial school is out for the summer."

"If you're worried about leavin' your mutt, we can take him with us."

"Yay, Snoopy!"

"That's very sweet of you both, but I'm not so sure you boys should drive all the way to New York."

"But we miss both you girls!" Lenny cried. "And I know you must miss each other."

Shirley burst into tears.

Lenny silently handed her a damp and not very clean hankie. Then Squiggy threw a badly folded map at her and said, "Find us the closest beach with a hot dog stand. I'm starved, Woman!"

"Yeah, I didn't wanna say nothin' and be a bad guest, but as usual, Shirl, your mom didn't offer us any refreshments."

The boys were awful. They were wonderful. And it looked like she and Snoopy might be going on a road trip with them.


	7. June 1959

"Oh boy, Cubby, it's Wednesday," Laverne told her massive stomach. "It's Anything Can Happen Day!"

"Hello."

She looked over at the threshold Antonio DeFazio had carried his new bride over, fifty-four years ago. Lenny and Squiggy were dressed as Pilgrims, and Shirley was holding a small beagle.

"You brought me a puppy?"

"That's Shirl's mutt and we finally got it house-and-home-broken."

"You got any newspapers, Laverne?" Lenny asked.

Laverne pointed at the stack in the corner and he thanked her. As he spread some pages on the floor, she asked, "Why Pilgrims?"

Shirley answered, "They refused to change after Massachusetts."

That made sense if you knew, as Laverne did, that Lenny and Squiggy had their own kind of logic, so Laverne just nodded. She didn't ask what the three of them, four counting the dog, were doing there. She knew someone would tell her eventually.

Squiggy shut the door he'd yanked open and came over to stand next to the couch. "Wow, you got fat!"

"I'm pregnant." There was obviously no point in pretending anymore, at least not to the boys.

"Yeah, Shirl told us."

Laverne looked over at her best friend, who was setting the puppy down on the papers, so the girls couldn't make eye contact. And Lenny had his back to Laverne, so for once she couldn't read his readable face.

She looked at Squiggy again. "She did?"

"Yeah, but I meant you're fat even for a chick with child."

Shirley came over and sat next to Laverne's bare feet, which were up on the sofa, since Grandma wasn't home to nag. "I think you look beautiful, Vernie."

"Yeah, Anthony says I glow like a nuclear explosion."

"Well," Squiggy said, "he's your cousin. He's gotta say nice things."

Laverne wondered exactly how much Shirley had told the boys, and why Shirley couldn't have kept her big mouth shut. "Is that why you're here? I mean because I'm pregnant."

Squiggy set his Pilgrim hat on the coffee table. "Nah, we was gonna visit you anyway, so Shirl told us so we wouldn't be shocked when we saw you."

Laverne looked over at Lenny, who was quietly encouraging the puppy to relieve itself. She wondered if he was hurt when he found out she'd lied when she told him she wasn't in trouble. She wanted to tell him it wasn't anything personal. She still hadn't met the man she wanted to marry.

Squiggy launched into a confusing story about buying Lucille Lockwash's old car because she took Carmine to Europe and so Lenny and Squiggy had to buy cowboy outfits, too, but Shirl wouldn't let them wear them east of the Mississippi and Snoopy had piddled on Squiggy's boots anyway. Laverne couldn't really focus because she was watching Lenny. He congratulated the beagle, Snoopy, and then play-wrestled, like they were two puppies. Lenny was adorable and she would always love him, but not like a wife should love a husband.

Then she got distracted by Shirley rubbing her bare feet. "Is this OK?" Shirley said quietly. "I remember when my sister-in-law was pregnant and her feet were swollen, so Timothy would rub them sometimes."

"Yeah," Laverne whispered, "it feels nice." Laverne didn't have a husband but she had good friends. She wished they could stay long enough to help her through the birth and after, but of course they would have to go home. The boys to Milwaukee, Shirley to the San Fernando Valley, where she'd mother her puppy and become a secretary and maybe someday bear children for, ugh, Dr. Walter Meeney.

"...And then she wouldn't even let us buy muskets!" Squiggy concluded dramatically.

"O mio dio!"

Laverne hadn't noticed the front door opening again. Her grandmother was standing there looking surprised, while Anthony looked amused. They were both holding bags of groceries.

"Grandma, my friends are visiting from out of town. Can they stay for dinner?"


	8. July 2011

Shirley smiled at herself in the mirror without having to try. At long last, it was her wedding day, again.

After more than fifty years together, there had of course been different ceremonies, like their hippie wedding, with flowers in their hair. But this was the first time they were making it legal.

They would never be able to get married in her partner's church, and not just because Shirley wasn't Catholic.

"I don't mind, Shirl, really. God knows I love you, and that's all that matters."

It was hard to say if they were in love at the beginning. All Shirley knew then was that there was only one place she should be, wanted to be.

Fifty-two years ago, she sat on a beach, not even worrying about the sand on one of her nicest skirts. As gently and as clearly as she could, she explained that Laverne was pregnant after all, although she white-lied and said that the pregnancy test the previous October was a false negative.

She braced herself for Squiggy's rants and/or leers, for Lenny's jealousy and/or tears. But both boys listened quietly and seemed to be focusing on their hot dogs and french fries, which she'd paid for.

Then Squiggy said, "I kinda figured it was somethin' like that, since she's been visiting her sick grandmutter for six months and counting."

She worried that everyone else had figured that out, if Squiggy had. Perhaps Mr. DeFazio was telling their friends that Laverne decided she loved Brooklyn too much to come back to Milwaukee. 

Lenny swallowed the fries he'd stuffed his mouth with. "Poor Laverne," he murmured. She could tell he hadn't figured it out, and Squiggy hadn't shared his guess about Laverne. Shirley worried that Lenny wanted to propose to Laverne again, preferably before the baby was born. Lenny was a sweet boy in some ways, but he wasn't right for Laverne. Her best friend needed someone who could combine dreams with practicality.

"You shouldn't of abandoned your best friend," Squiggy scolded. "I wouldn't of skipped out on Lenny if he got knocked up."

"Yeah," Lenny said earnestly, "Laverne needs you more than ever, Shirl."

"I didn't skip out on her," she said irritably. "She went to New York, so I went to California."

"But if you was leaving the great state of Milwaukee anyways, why not just go to Brookland?" Squiggy asked.

"Yeah," Lenny said, "they're practically the same distance."

She shook her head. "You boys really do need someone to read the maps."

She had to have them take her home so she could pack a suitcase and get Snoopy. Her mother of course thought she was crazy for going on a very long road trip with "Squiggly" and "Wiggly," so Shirley didn't tell Mama she might not be coming back.

"What am I supposed to tell Walter?"

"Tell him I miss my best friend."

She could've called Laverne from the road, but she was afraid Laverne wouldn't want to see her, or at least the boys. And Shirley didn't know if this was just a quick visit, or something quite a bit longer. She didn't know that it would be for more than half a century.

At first, she and the boys were just staying for dinner. Laverne's grandmother was happy to feed them, and the boys ate heartily. There was of course no dog food in the apartment, but Snoopy dined happily on raw meat.

Grandma DeFazio insisted that the four of them stay overnight. Squiggy took the couch and Lenny uncomplainingly took the coffee table. Shirley and Snoopy bunked with Laverne and "Cubby," Laverne's odd nickname for her huge stomach. The bed was crowded but cozy.

The boys stayed two nights and then headed back to Milwaukee, with Shirley's carefully written instructions on how to find their way home. They made it to and from New York many times over the next five decades or so, and Lenny had just texted that they and their wives were waiting at the courthouse. Lenny was Shirley's best man and a month ago he'd texted **Wouldn't miss it for the 🌍!**

Everyone had agreed that Shirley should stay until the baby was born. Ostensibly, it was to help Laverne deal with not only the birth but also whatever mixed emotions she'd feel about giving the baby away. But the girls talked it over, and Laverne finally admitted, "If you're willing to give up your life in California, Shirl, I might be ready to be a mother."

The adoptive parents were disappointed but understanding, and they ended up taking in a five-year-old orphan. Shirley's mother thought she was even crazier and, many times over the next decade, told her, "You'll never meet a nice man and get married if you keep living with Laverne and her love child." But she still sent Cubby birthday and Christmas presents every year, and she counted him as a grandchild in her will.

Mr. DeFazio was much more supportive. He'd always considered Shirley a second daughter and he thought she would be good for his daughter and grandson. "OK, so you're not an Italian husband, but at least she's not alone."

It wasn't that Laverne had been alone exactly. She had her grandmother and her favorite cousin, and all the other Brooklyn relatives and neighbors. But she didn't have Shirley.

At first, they all lived with Mrs. DeFazio. Laverne looked after Snoopy and baby Carl, the latter named and nicknamed after her favorite Mouseketeer. Shirley took summer secretarial classes at Brooklyn College and then continued on in the fall, despite her mother's pleas to "come home."

When Shirley got a job as a receptionist, she, Laverne, their dog, and their baby got a one-bedroom apartment in Greenwich Village, although the girls would still bring Carlo to see his great-grandmama. Laverne read and eventually wrote for _The Village Voice,_ where it didn't matter that she was an unwed mother without a college education. She could often be seen in those days with a pen and a notebook, with Cubby in hand-me-downs and in a stroller, herself wearing black blouses, a black beret, short black boots, and sometimes even black jeans. She ironed her hair and her grandmother called her "una beatnika."

It was Shirley, with her love of poetry, who frequented the coffeehouses. By day, she worked on Madison Avenue (where she'd move from receptionist to copywriter and so on to eventually Vice President in Charge of Jingles), but at night and on weekends, she explored philosophy and taught herself French. She was the one who cheerfully argued about politics with the cartoonist Jules Feiffer all through The Sixties, while Laverne was the one who smoked reefer with him half a dozen times.

Jules was the one who told them that most of their neighbors assumed they were lesbians. By that point, the girls had started to be more affectionate with each other, with hugs and shoulder massages, and sometimes touches on the arm or the back that lingered a moment too long. But they'd never kissed. Shirley had thought about it, but she never let herself dwell on the thought.

Jules didn't say it accusingly. It was more of a casual remark. Neither girl corrected him and the subject changed.

But after he left, they talked about it. Laverne admitted she'd thought about kissing Shirley. So they kissed, and it was good.

Cubby was a toddler then. As a grandfather of toddlers, Carl couldn't remember a time when his mothers weren't a couple. There was no father of either bride left alive, but he had promised to give Mom and Mama officially to each other. His wife and kids, and their spouses and kids, would be there, too.

(Jules couldn't make it, but he sent his best regards, and an autographed sketch of the girls as they'd looked when he first met them, although Cubby had mouse ears and Snoopy, who died forty years ago, looked like the Charles Schulz character. Squiggy wanted to sell it on eBay and get a commission.)

"Shirl, get your heiney out here! We're gonna be late! And Antonio's already pissed that he has to wear a suit just to be my best man again."

"Coming, Sweetie!" Shirley straightened her veil and went out to the living room to kiss the woman she'd always loved, even when they were at what felt like opposite ends of the Earth.


End file.
